The sarcastic among you will undoubtedly note that a grocery bag is a thing to put stuff in, as is a basket, so we are using one carrying receptacle to make another carrying receptacle. Shut up, sarcastic people. The basket is way cuter.

Now, more on the reasons I don’t like crafts: They make me think about elementary school art class. You even start with similar materials.

We may have done this exact craft, in fact.

Now I know some elementary school art teachers, and I fully and deeply appreciate everything you folks do. You dedicate your life, time, and probably your money to sticky-fingered and under-developed children who really only like art class because it’s the one hour of the week when their tyrannical teacher-of-all-else gets to take a well-deserved smoke break.

I really only liked art class because it didn’t involve much math. (And I saw you try to sneak some geometry in there with that tessellation collage. I ain’t dumb.)

This project actually did involve some math, as there is a lot of cutting of strips of paper and measuring those strips.

And the instructions aren’t super clear on how many you end up with, so Imma break it down for you in case you don’t want any math in your art project, like me:

You cut 18 strips of the same length.

You take 2 of those strips and cut them in half. Now you have 20 strips (4 short ones and 16 regular ones).

You take the 4 short strips and glue them to 4 of the regular-sized strips. Now you have 4 extra-long strips and 12 regular-sized strips.

See? Math.

Then you take those strips and fold them into thirds, which really just sort of made me mad because I spent so much time carefully measuring them before I cut them out. But I think it’s so you can hide the ugly parts on the inside.

(I am a big proponent of hiding the ugly parts. It’s why I wear clothes and make-up, people. And if a make-up artist ever tells you make-up is not meant to cover the ugly parts, she’s a damn liar.)

I was talking with a friend the other day and realized, once again, that this blog is sort of just therapy for my debilitating perfectionism. The thing is, I am not blessed with the sort of perfectionism that comes with endless talent. My particular brand of perfectionism is paired with a severe lack of athleticism and craftiness. If that shit don’t make ya a little crazy, I don’t know what will.

But on this blog, I am forced to show my less-than-perfect results to all of you and declare to the world that this is who I am.

That doesn’t stop me from wanting my blog to be perfect, but anyways… It’s a vicious cycle, guys.

It took me like twenty godforsaken minutes to get the 12 short strips to look like this.

And it took me another hour or so to weave the long pieces in as the sides.

There was no small amount of cursing and back-tracking along the way. “Christ with a crutch,” is a personal favorite of mine, in case you were wondering.

(Annnnd cue the haters who don’t mind when I use a fucktillion other swear words, but if I “use the Lord’s name in vain,” they shoot righteous rockets of indignation out of their soul-parts at me, even though they probably said, “Oh my God,” seventeen times today already, and isn’t that using the Lord’s name in vain, too?)

Another twenty or thirty minutes to fold and tuck all the end pieces… and then I realized I should have done the same with the long strips on the inside of the basket, but it was too late because I’d already glued down the ends.

All of my art projects in elementary school turned out such that comments I received were along the lines of, “Oh, bless your heart,” and, “Well isn’t that… special?” I knew what it meant, and I knew my projects were not beautiful, despite an adult never actually telling me they were butt-ugly.

This one actually turned out passable, as long as you don’t look on the inside of the basket. Might not even earn me a comment like, “I can see how hard you worked on that,” (which is a total copout way to tell someone their thing sucks).

I didn’t have any strawberries to put in it, though, so I put my penis cookie cutters in there. Dick in a box. Get it? (Thought I’d leave you with a good old penis joke as an apology for discussions of psychological neuroses and theology in this post. Sorry dudes.)

76 Comments

I was an art teacher in an elementary school for one school year. Without fail, I would make a kid cry every day I was there. I don’t enjoy making little kids cry. Now, if I had been able to make a kid cry everyday when I taught middle school art, that would have been hilarious.

I “taught” crafts at a summer day camp for years. And by “taught” I mean do the crafts for the kids because they couldn’t work a bottle of glue. Yes, the future of America lies in the hands of children who dump out half a bottle of glue on the table so they could dip sequins in it to glue on a card for their sweet mothers.
All that to say, you have amazing glue skills! Gold star!

I agree. Contrary to the popular belief of many prudes, I see creative cursing as a sign of a expansive vocabulary. So expansive that you have to make shit up to get your point across. Bitch is so overdone, damn = yawn. Therefore, I shall share my favorites and expand your collective vocabularies. Twat Waffle, Cunt Mustard, and (this is safe for work) Son of a… Monkey! My gift to the human race here, people!

The step up from twatwaffle (which in itself is graduated from douchewaffle) is cunt pancake. And while I tend to leave the monkeys alone, I’ve been known to express opinions on the “son of a motherless goat”. LD

My clean one is CHEESE andcrackers.. But I honestly don’t shy away from swears. Just racial slurs. And gash. Not a fan. Anywho, your basket is perfect, because baskets have stuff in them, so it doesn’t matter what the inside looks like.

“Cum guzzling gutter slut” was always one of my favorites (borrowed, to be sure, from an old friend). Or “peckerneck” which lead to interesting visuals. And the clean one thanks to my time in Wisconsin was “Holy Hannah!” … But, the blasphemer in me has gotten trouble a time or two with “Jesus Christ, sunofawhore!” -sighs-

You did a great job! I love that your box is so nice and tight even though there are three penises in it.
Is the plural of penis peni? I always wondered that.
On another note, My favorite way to say the Lord’s name in vain is, “JC on a pogo stick.”

You should still post what you were going to say about her tight box. All of us Pintestees are all over the penis, but i feel like box needs some love too.
Wow that sounds even dirtier than I thought it would. Score.

They sell baskets at the dollar store. I don’t understand why normal folks would take so much time to make a wee little basket. Also my favorite creative cussing is sperm burping gutter whore. That is all. Have a nice day.

You wanna hide the ugly things? Wear yoga pants! They make almost any ass look good. (Almost. Not everybody gets to wear yoga pants. If you have extra asses on your ass, please, be responsible and don’t make us wish for Alzheimer’s to take the memory of you in yoga pants away.)
Alternatively, if you want to flaunt the ugly parts, wear a maxi dress, yo! I swear, I don’t know what sick bitch came up with those things, but if they can make an anorexic model look droopy and saggy, no one else should even bother trying them on. You end up feeling fat, flabby, and you look like you just don’t care anymore. Don’t we already have the muumuu for that?

You know, I’vve been wanting to say something along those lines in walmart for the better part of a year. I’m glad I finally said it somewhere.
Also, I think I’d rather go to Dollar Tree and just buy a cheap plastic basket than spend a couple hours making one.

dude, you just need to find the RIGHT maxi dress. i swear, when i put the right one on, i am a tall, slender goddess (i’m really an average height chubby human). it’s like jeans though, you gotta try on 10 to find maybe one you like.

I’m with you. My first (and only) maxi dress is one my friend made me try on because “it is so fucking hideous! It’ll be hilarious to try it on!” (It is pink, orange, brown, green, and cream TIE DYE) And it makes a fattie like me look great. I get compliments on it ALL THE DAMN TIME. But it’s a huge trial and error thing.

Ah, yes…my husband (who is kind and claims to not notice a 30 lb weight gain) still recalls the maxi dress I splurged on for our trip to my Miami; he calls it The Zeppelin. Photographs prove his kindness, because it was SO UNATTRACTIVE.

alright, I’m clearly taking stupid pills by accident, because I assumed you were making this with plastic shopping bags and was beyond impressed with out neat and purty everything was…..
Oh and I snorted a little at soul parts…

I can’t stop laughing at “Christ with a crutch”…I literally have tears running down my face. I am about to try my first thrift shop refashion and I’m POSITIVE there will be many “Christ with a crutch” expletives. One of my own personal favorites comes from my Dad, “JESUS, Mary and Joseph!”

Actually, it looks really good!! I am impressed… I too am craft impaired, so I appreciate that you mess things up so I don’t have to waste my time & money & tears… It’s easier on my husband like this too…

I’ve recently had to modify a lot of my curses (my two year old repeats everything), and, being clumsy, I often have a reason to swear. My recent favorite is “AHHHH-mazing grace,” though sometimes “bacon fat” and “friends with shorty shorts” make an appearance.

In other news, I think that there should be a verb form for the word “expletive” – explete. Ex: That girl stubbed her toe and expleted like crazy.

I have to say my favorite Jesus saying is – Jesus H fuck! it’s from the movie Ted. I had to watch that scene a few times because I thought that was the best 🙂 I don’t say Jesus H Christ anymore thanks to Seth McFarlane.

That is one beautiful basket. And it only took, what? 3 hours to make? You should make baskets for a living. (Just kidding, you know I love you. How could I not?) I have a great way to take the lord’s name in vain but would you believe it, I can’t remember it right now. Stupid sucky old brain syndrome. Something on a biscuit? Someone in a basket? Well hell.

Sonja your box is lovely! I am a little surprised by the color. I thought our awesome Pintester would have an orange box, red box, or maybe even a blue box… well hopefully not a blue box. That could just get uncomfortable.

I have been having a crappy day, shitty week as well, and I come across this (see below) and here I sit laughing to tears. Thank you! I needed a good laugh and smile.

There was no small amount of cursing and back-tracking along the way.
“Christ with a crutch,” is a personal favorite of mine, in case you
were wondering.

(Annnnd cue the haters who don’t mind when I use a fucktillion other
swear words, but if I “use the Lord’s name in vain,” they shoot
righteous rockets of indignation out of their soul-parts at me, even
though they probably said, “Oh my God,” seventeen times today already,
and isn’t that using the Lord’s name in vain, too?)

Always fun learning new phrases to break the second commandment. My personal favorite was always “Jesus H. Christ on a Popsicle stick.” I feel the middle initial really gives it some class, then we unexpectedly throw in the silly reference to Popsicles. If you’re gonna do it, do it right I say.

Generally, I’m opposed to using Jesus, God, Buddha or any other deities in my swearing, so imagine my glee when I was reading my new free book, “25 Reasons to Write, Dammit,” and read the following sentence, “We hear you saying, “Thank Elvis,” for that.” I’m totally replacing any and all deity references in my swearing with “ELVIS!” I already did it today, even. As in, “I would have sworn to Elvis that I had already done that.” Thank you, Pintester and/or Lisa (it’s not really clear which of you added that line). This goes into my “you-learn-something-every-day” category!